Loss
by HR always live on
Summary: AU, set at the end of S10. Ruth has to find a way to live without Harry. Epilogue up.
1. Chapter 1

_Very depressing one but hopefully someone will bear with me! Sasha attacked Harry not Ruth in this universe._

* * *

><p>Ruth looked at the clock, sitting in the Home Office. She couldn't concentrate on anything any more. She seemed to be forever clock watching, waiting for something to happen. For someone to tell her that the last six weeks had been a bad dream. The clock hit five p.m. and she could reasonably go home now, to what she had no idea. There would be no one waiting for her. No Harry to call, not any more. The last image she had of him was his eyes closing as his heart stopped, and every minute of the day, she relived that moment. The moment he'd been completely torn from her permanently, after they got so close to being together properly. Her hand had been on his pulse as his heart stopped beating and she had completely lost her sanity as it became clear that he was no longer alive.<p>

Dimitri had lifted her away from Harry, throughout her cries and protestations while Callum and Erin worked on trying to resuscitate him. Needless to say it hadn't worked and she had been hysterical as he had been airlifted to the hospital. Ruth had been pacing the waiting room waiting for any news on Harry. Anything at all as Erin watched her anxiously. It had only taken about half an hour before a doctor had come to see them and she had known from the look on his face that it was bad news.

"Say it," Ruth had asked as Erin looked on, knowing what was about to happen.

"I'm sorry," the doctor had said. "He died on arrival to the hospital. I'm so sorry."

Ruth couldn't believe it. She was never emotional to anyone. She never showed her feelings but when the doctor said that she had literally crumpled to the floor in tears, unable to comprehend a world without Harry. Those few days between his death and the funeral were a complete blur to her. She didn't remember much and she'd been completely strung out on emotion and devastation. She didn't like to think of the funeral either. That had been one of the worst days of her life, including when she had left after the Cotterdam fiasco. And she hadn't liked that everyone seemed to be throwing her meaningful yet sad glances throughout the service.

Back in the present, Ruth shook her head trying to clear images of Harry's coffin being lowered into the earth, on a ridiculously beautiful sunny day. She walked into Towers office and knocked on the door twice before he told her she could come in. Another thing she missed. Being able to barge in without knocking, knowing deep down that Harry would be happy to see her regardless of the depressing information she carried.

"I want to speak to you," Ruth said in the normal low and depressive voice she used nowadays. Lacking emotion, because she felt so empty.

"Yes Ruth, what is it?"

"I quit," she said imply. "I can't do this job and I don't want to any more."

"You've only been here a couple of months," Towers said bewildered.

"Yes, and I keep remembering what has happened in that time and I… I just can't do it. I'm leaving."

"Take some time," Towers advised. "I know that Harry's death is a shock to you…"

"I could take all the time I have left in my life and it wouldn't make any difference," she said honestly. "I need to let go of this world. I'm leaving Towers. You won't stop me. And please don't talk about him," she added. Hearing his name sent a shock of pain through her system.

"Take a week," Towers replied. "You don't have to come in to work, just take a week to think about it."

"Fine," she said indifferently. She knew it wouldn't change anything at all. Not her feelings and certainly not her grief which felt like it was completely drowning her almost all of the time. She left Towers office and picked up her coat. She quickly left the Home Office, not wanting to stay there and went home. The entire time her mind was focused on Harry. She felt unable to believe that he was really gone. His eyes would never sparkle at her again. Swallowing, she got in her car and prepared to get locked in rush hour traffic but she didn't care. It wasn't like she had anything better to do with her time.

* * *

><p><em>There will be more but what do you think so far? Any opinions?<em>


	2. Chapter 2

It was Tuesday night and Ruth had drunk the majority of a bottle of red wine on her own, curled up on the sofa, stroking Fidget while she finished off the last glass from the bottle. It was half comforting and half torture to be so close to a creature whom Harry had lived with while she was in exile in Cyprus. Rationally she knew that the cat wouldn't realise Harry had died, but she almost felt like saying "I miss him too." Ridiculous though it clearly was. The cat didn't know the reason Ruth was sad, but he allowed himself to be stroked more than usual which Ruth appreciated.

Suddenly her doorbell rang and Fidget went and hid in the kitchen automatically. He didn't like the doorbell. Ruth brushed her tears aside but knew there was no hiding her blotchy face and red eyes. She opened the door and felt a bolt of loathing at the figure there. "What do you want?"

"Can I come in?" Towers asked.

"If you like," Ruth said lifelessly. "It won't change my decision though."

"I know," Towers said following her into the lounge. Ruth sat down on the sofa holding her empty glass and waiting for him to continue. "I called Erin today. Looking to see if there was a possible replacement for you if you decided not to come back."

"And what did she tell you?" Ruth asked, still in that lifeless voice she was so often using now.

"That I'm an idiot, basically," Towers admitted. "That I didn't understand the… nature of your

relationship with Harry."

"She's right but please don't talk about him," she said, her eyes lowered to the floor.

"I have to," Towers replied. "He's the reason I'm here."

"Please don't tell me he'd have wanted me to carry on, or to get over his death, because I can't take it, no matter how true it might be. I can't do it, William, and nothing you say will make me."

"I know," he replied in a more understanding voice than she was used to hearing from him. His tone made her look up from the floor and she saw he had an actual softness in his eyes. She was so surprised to see it there that she stayed silent, rather than saying the first demeaning and painful thing she could think of. "I have to tell you something which you are going to hate me for."

"I don't have the energy for hatred William. It's a pointless emotion because it doesn't solve anything."

"Ruth, I need you to stay calm."

"Do I look calm?" she asked blandly.

"Yes," Towers said. "I lied to you, but I had a good reason. Harry isn't dead."

"Don't be stupid," Ruth replied. "He's gone. I know it. Lying doesn't help."

"The Americans wanted him for questioning over Coaver's death," Towers continued. "No amount of appeasing was going to help. They wanted blood and they were going to get it."

"Can we not rehash Harry's last days?" Ruth asked. It was simply too painful to remember how many people had wanted him dead in the first place.

"As soon as I heard Sasha had stabbed Harry, I was bombarded by calls from the US embassy, demanding him to be returned into their custody. I made my way to the hospital to see how he was doing and cited diplomatic status to get updates quicker than usual. Something I was amazed you didn't think of."

"I hand my hand on his pulse when his heart stopped beating," Ruth said with ice in her voice. "My job title wasn't the first thing on my mind."

"I know. He was in grave danger, so I jumped the gun and told the doctor that it was a matter of national security that certain information got released quickly. Because the American's were after blood, I had it released that Harry had died, when in fact he was still alive, undergoing emergency surgery."

"I understand why you did that," Ruth acknowledged in a dead voice. "So would he."

"He was so close to death that the surgeons told me it was only a matter of time, so I didn't feel too guilty. But then the hours went on, and he made it through."

"I don't believe you," Ruth said simply. "We had a funeral for him. He can't have survived."

"You never saw him dead though did you?" Towers asked, rather harshly in her opinion.

"I stayed crying in bed for three days straight. Unable to get up to even get a glass of water, showing a weakness I hate," Ruth admitted. By the time I could leave the house again, his funeral was already almost completely organised. And I had no desire to see… his lifeless face staring at me. I was not strong enough to cope with that. I'm still not truth be told."

"He didn't die, but I needed to keep the lie going so Washington wouldn't come after him, let alone Moscow. He needed weeks of care in hospital."

Ruth seemed to consider what he was saying as possibly true for the first time. "But… no. He wouldn't leave me in this much pain for so long. If what you're saying is true, he wouldn't have left me like this, knowing he's dead."

"He had no choice," Towers said. "He was unconscious for eight days, and couldn't speak for a couple more. In order to stop the Americans coming after him, he couldn't talk to you once he was out of hospital. They were watching you."

"I was having my grief monitored by the CIA?" Ruth questioned in a deathly quiet voice.

"And the FSB," Towers admitted.

"I was in agony. I **am** in agony, thinking of life without him. You know that. And for six weeks he's been alive? We had a funeral for him. I can't believe it. I just can't," she said.

"I'm the only one who knew the truth," Towers said, looking suitably ashamed. "No foreign agents are watching him or you anymore. You've ceased to be of importance relatively quickly."

"He can't be alive," Ruth said shaking her head. "He can't be. And even if he is, does he think I've abandoned him?"

"He knows he had to keep out of sight for a while," Towers said. "But I didn't mention you when I spoke to him."

"So he's been living near death, thinking I didn't care… for weeks? How…? How?"

"Do you believe me that he's alive?" Towers asked.

"I don't know," she replied. "Its possible, but I can't bear the thought that he thinks I've left him."

"No matter how much time goes by, nothing will lessen your feelings will it?" Towers asked. Ruth shook her head sadly. "Here's the address," he added, handing her a scrap of paper. She held it and after a few seconds dissolved into tears.

"He's alive?" she questioned through blurry eyes.

"Yes."

"Oh God," she whispered, trying to wrap her mind around it as the tears fell in floods now.

"I'm sorry I lied to you for so long," he replied. And Ruth thought he truly meant it. She stayed still as Towers left her house, the tears still falling down her face as she tried to accept the new reality.

* * *

><p><em>So now I've had reviews saying they like me showing and exploring Ruth's grief, I've brought Harry back. I was always intending to, but I hope I keep my readers anyway!<em>


	3. Chapter 3

Ruth woke up at eight in the morning. She had spent a restless night tossing and turning with images floating through her mind. Harry dead, Harry stabbed, Harry alive, her and Harry on their one and only date. All of those visuals were mixing into one big blur, meaning sleep was a stranger to her for most of the night. Broken by images of him. The echo of his voice she had thought she'd never hear again.

As her eyes opened she realised there was a heavy weight on her right foot. "Morning Fidget," she breathed as she wriggled her toes slightly under the cat. He meowed once at her, which she took as her morning greeting. "I have to go today, I'm going to ask Erin to look in on you and feed you okay?"

He looked at her and blinked once which she took as a yes and felt her lips turn upwards in a tiny smile. The first that had adorned her face since that blade of glass had punctured Harry's lung. Suddenly she jumped into action, realising that every minute spent thinking about Harry was a minute wasted. She could be travelling to Harry. She picked up the piece of paper Towers had given her and checked the address for the hundredth time. Charmouth, Dorset. Why he was there she had no idea but she realised she needed to get moving. She could think in the car, rather than in bed. It was more practical anyway.

* * *

><p>Harry looked out of his window overlooking the sea and felt very depressed. This couldn't be classified as living, simply existing. He knew no one here, could do nothing and was waiting from the all clear from Towers before he contacted anyone from the grid. He had no idea how long that would take. He didn't much like Towers, but he did appreciate the fact that he wasn't in American custody in Washington at the moment, a fact he had to thank the Home Secretary for. He didn't want to complain too much but there were a lot of quiet moments here. And in his quiet moments he thought about Ruth. He couldn't stop himself.<p>

These days Ruth was not a pleasant subject for him to dwell on. It hurt to think about her. Not once had she come to see him in hospital, and he knew he was meant to be dead, but he was also sure that she was ingenious enough to find a means of being able to visit if she really wanted to. She had offered to leave the service with him before he'd been attacked by Sasha. Had that all just vanished when he lay in a hospital bed? He'd never thought of her as fickle, but at the moment he didn't know what to think of her behaviour. But on the other hand, it might have been a conscious choice on her part, Harry thought sadly. She might have decided she didn't want to spend her life with a man who was crippled. Harry couldn't bear that thought so he did what he always did. Manoeuvred his wheelchair into a different room and picked up the paper, all while trying to get his mind off of the beautiful brunette who would always have his heart.

* * *

><p><em>Well, it wasn't all going to be smooth sailing was it? Thanks for all the enthusiastic reviews so far. More soon.<em>


	4. Chapter 4

Ruth stopped the car outside a small cottage and looked at the address again. It was definitely the right house, but she was suddenly overcome with doubts. Miracles like this didn't happen in real life did they? Within the last twenty four hours her intense grief had been eclipsed by the hope that Harry might actually be alive. So much so that she'd immediately driven down to the south west the very next morning. What was she thinking? She'd visited his grave repeatedly, knowing he was buried there. This was ridiculous. She spent fifteen minutes talking herself into disappointment.

When she knocked on the door, it wouldn't be Harry. The logical side of her told her that. Eventually she felt less nervous than she had previously done and she got out of the car, approaching the door. There wasn't a doorbell so she knocked three times on the wooden door, waiting (while slightly reminded of her peeling paint green door of her dream house).

There was a scuffling sort of noise from the inside of the house and after a minute she knocked again, her heart in her throat. Then the door swung open and she was confronted by Harry. "Oh God," she whispered in a hoarse voice, seeing his face after so long. He really was alive. Then the next thing she saw was the wheelchair he was sitting in. "Oh God," she repeated in a much different tone.

"I guess you should come in," Harry said in a flat voice. Ruth was left open mouthed as Harry wheeled away into the kitchen. She slowly followed, aghast at his clear disability and wondering why on earth Towers hadn't mentioned it to prepare her. By the time she got into the kitchen he was facing her with a look she couldn't quite describe. But it wasn't either pleased or happy, and Ruth suddenly realised how much he'd hate anyone to see him in a wheelchair.

"I can't believe it," she said quietly.

"Is this why you've been avoiding me?" Harry asked. Then he indicated the chair.

"Avoiding you?" Ruth questioned, hurt at the tone he was using.

"I know it isn't exactly what you wanted."

"I thought you were dead!" Ruth said, louder than she'd intended. "I only discovered yesterday that you were still alive, and this is how you greet me?"

"What?" Harry asked in a breathless voice as Ruth sat down in a kitchen chair without being asked, her hands clasped tightly together.

"We had a funeral for you," Ruth said, keeping going. "And everyone was looking at me, just waiting for me to fall apart as the coffin was lowered in the earth. I can't believe you're actually here, in front of me."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed," Harry said in a tone she was much more used to hearing from him.

"I have been grieving for weeks," she continued, trying to stop crying. "Thinking you were… dead. I can't believe you are here."

"Ruth, I'm sorry," he said immediately. "I never wanted you to think that."

But she couldn't stop, now that he was finally in front of her. "I've been picturing you in hospital having your lung cut to pieces as you were dying. Harry, there aren't words to describe the anguish and heartache I've been going through for the past six weeks. And you say I'm avoiding you?"

He reached for her hand resting on the table and squeezed it lightly as she fell into silence. "I was thinking of myself when you came in. I'm sorry," he said quietly as her tears dried. She looked at him, at her level now as she was sat down and sniffed once.

"What happened?" she asked in a kind voice, looking directly in his eyes, so he knew lying was out of the question.

"The oxygen to my brain was cut off for too long as they tried to resuscitate me," Harry said simply. He owed her the truth anyway. "Basically, I can't use my legs."

"Is it permanent?" She used a soft voice which was the only reason he replied. He hated talking about his new found disability.

"Probably," he admitted. "With time it might get better, but I won't be like I was."

"And you thought it would matter to me? You thought a wheelchair would make me leave you without a word?" Ruth asked. Harry suddenly felt ashamed. He had known Ruth for nearly ten years. Of course it wouldn't change how she felt. She was one of the most constant people he'd ever met in his life.

"I wanted to contact you," Harry said quietly, avoiding answering her question. "It wasn't safe."

"I know that," she said. "Well, I know that now," she added at his look. "Its what I spent the journey down here thinking of. Its safe now though. I promise."

"Look, Ruth, I really appreciate you coming down here to see me, I do. But… this isn't what you wanted a couple of months ago, when you said leave the service with me. Is it? With someone in a wheelchair?"

"Harry…"

"Ruth, I'm letting you off the hook," he said slowly but very sincerely. "You don't want to be lumbered with me." The look on her face almost broke his will power. She looked even more beautiful than he'd remembered. "I care about you too much to see you throw your life away on me."

"Harry…" she said, unable to believe what she was hearing. He squeezed her hand once more and then turned his chair around and rolled out of the room while she stared after him, completely struck dumb with amazement.

* * *

><p><em>More soon.<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_Writing HR fics is addictive. Here's chapter five..._

* * *

><p>Ruth was left alone in the kitchen with her mouth hanging open and emotions everywhere. He just wanted her to leave? After all this time? What the hell was he thinking? Did he really think that she was just skin deep? No way was she just going to give in without a fight. Wanting to do something, but having no idea what, she got up and opened the lower kitchen cupboards. They were very bare. Almost no food at all, and opening the fridge she saw it didn't look much better there. Deciding she was going to go shopping for two things, one to restock his cupboards, and secondly to calm down, rather than shouting at him for being a brainless idiot. How could he think that she wouldn't want him, simply because of a bloody wheelchair. He was so much more of a fool than she'd ever thought before, and she'd had moments when she wanted to kill him because of his stubbornness.<p>

She walked into the living room, seeing Harry stare out of the window like he was lost. "Harry, I'm going shopping. You have no food at all."

"No don't…"

"Argue with me all you like, you won't change my mind," Ruth said simply. "And while I'm gone, you can try and let go of your ridiculous presumptions that a chair affects me." She turned to leave when he said something that made her turn.

"Please…"

"Please what?" she asked gently.

"Never mind," he said, shaking his head. He had wanted to say please come back, but had lost his nerve at the last moment. Ruth sighed and left the house, determined she was going to change his mind, one way or another.

* * *

><p>An hour or so later she was back. She knocked on the door, a tad annoyed that it was locked. But then she thought it wasn't a reflection on her personally, just that Harry had been a spook for far too long to be careless. "Harry, its me," she called through the door. Quickly it was unlocked and she carried the shopping through to the kitchen, trying not to look at his face too much, fearing her heart might break if she did. She opened the fridge to put the milk in and felt a warm hand grip hers. She straightened up but kept the touch going as Harry's eyes burnt into hers for long seconds. He was studying her face very carefully, wanting to know what she saw. Was it disgust? Pity? Sadness? But no, he realised. She was looking at him the way she always had done, as far back as he could remember. Trusting and… was it possible, a glimmer of love there? Or was he just hoping in blind faith? Ruth turned her hand over so she could hold his tighter and a tiny smile lit up his face. Ruth replied with a similar smile on hers.<p>

"I'm glad you're here," Harry said quietly, and Ruth knew he'd spent the time she had been shopping thinking about this.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said. "I quit my job with Towers. I thought you were… you know. I couldn't bear to work in that world anymore and I promise you I'm not going anywhere."

"Why did you leave?"

"I couldn't cope without you," she said honestly, squeezing his hand. "I couldn't. So I left, trying to get away from the world of MI5 and spies. But now that I know you're here, I absolutely made the right decision."

"Ruth, I'm a cripple." He shook his head and looked at the floor but Ruth felt relieved that he kept her hand in his grasp.

"You're not a cripple," she said softly. "And even if I thought you were, which I don't, it's a small price to pay if you're alive."

"I'm a moody git because of this stupid chair," he said with a classic Harry pout.

"How is that different from last year? You were always a moody git." Harry smiled at the attempted humour and appreciated her saying so.

"I don't want your pity," he said. "I do want you here… with me, honestly. But if you are ever staying just because you feel sorry for me, please leave. I couldn't bear it. I'd much rather have you happy and away from me, the miserable invalid than be unhappy. I never want to see you that way."

"Is that what its going to take for you to let your guard down around me?" Ruth asked, her thumb starting stroking his hand softly.

"I don't know," he admitted. "It is so good to see you though."

"Harry, can you be quiet for a minute?" she asked. He nodded silently and she removed his hand from his. Before he had time to notice the absence of her warmth she crouched down and kissed his lips softly. He didn't react at first but she thought that was nervousness and the general awkwardness of the situation so she carried on. Then he did respond to her and it was a sweet, gentle, loving kiss. She kept the embrace going despite the pain in her back from the awkward position but felt rewarded when Harry's hand rose and caressed her cheek slowly. She smiled into the kiss and he felt her happiness and kissed her more fervently. The most perfect of kisses eventually came to an end, and she straightened up, her blue eyes sparkling with a happiness that was reminiscent of the Ruth of old. Just that look made his heart lighter, and deep inside he knew that she wasn't here because she pitied him. It would probably take weeks before he could voice it to her though. Instead he changed the subject.

"So, tell me what you've been up to over the last six weeks."


	6. Chapter 6

Ruth found herself curled up on the sofa, Harry's chair situated near her as he held her hand lightly. She had spent the afternoon describing what she'd been through over the past few weeks. The grief and devastation. The hurt and the pain. She'd cried and then felt lighter when Harry gently wiped her tears away, his fingertips on her cheeks, making her blush, despite her best efforts. She fell silent when she had nothing more to say. Running a hand through her hair she turned to Harry. "How've you been?"

"Bad," he said simply. "I'm on about a dozen types of medications, which as far as I can tell don't do anything at all. You know I was unconscious for a week?" Ruth nodded as she squeezed his hand. "I was in a lot of pain when I woke up. I couldn't speak, a tube was rammed down my throat and there was nothing there to distract me from the pain. And then after an hour or two, I realised my feet couldn't move either. I was completely devastated. Before the doctor even came to talk to me I was convinced I'd never walk again."

"Yes, but you're stubborn," Ruth reminded him. "What were you actually told?"

"That, given my age its unlikely I will ever walk. And I won't go back to how it was, even if I do manage some normal leg function. I can sort of… shuffle around a bit, but it completely zaps my energy. Its just not worth the hassle."

"I'm sorry," she said. "It isn't pity before you read too much into it. I'm just sorry for you. I know how much this will grate at you."

"You're not wrong," he admitted and she smiled. All of a sudden she felt light headed as Harry started stroking her hair gently. It felt nice and comfortable and wonderful. "Are you staying here tonight?" he asked in a low voice.

"If that's okay," she said with a questioning look in her eyes.

"Yeah, there's a bedroom upstairs, someone might as well use it," he said trying to keep the bitterness in his voice to a minimum.

"But…"

"I can't manage the stairs," he admitted. "I've been sleeping on the sofa." Ruth sat up suddenly from her lying position. Harry had been sleeping where she currently was? There was something unintentionally intimate about that but she wasn't fool enough to voice it.

"Don't you have someone to help you?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"I'm meant to be dead remember," he said with a small smile. "Plus the person Towers had so kindly arranged to help me won't be coming back. I was pissed off and shouted at him some very unflattering things."

"I won't ask what," Ruth said with a smile. "Is this really your house?"

"Yes," he replied. "Or James Fortescue's. One of my aliases. I bought it about ten years ago, just in case I needed a place out of the way. I'm glad I did now."

"Do you want help getting up the stairs?" Ruth asked quietly. He considered for a moment, pleased that she wasn't using a demeaning voice. If he said no, she'd accept that.

"It'll be awkward, horrible and uncomfortable. And I hate you seeing me helpless." She knew what it cost his pride to admit that to her.

"You're not helpless," she said sincerely. "If you want help I'm here."

"Thank you." It took about half an hour for him to get up the stairs, gripping hold of the banister and Ruth very tightly to try and shuffle up. By the time he got to the top he looked like he'd run a marathon and was completely exhausted. Ruth opened the first door and was relieved that it was a bedroom. She manoeuvred him into the room and he sat on the bed, breathing heavily. She went downstairs to grab Harry's wheelchair, and to give him time to recover slightly. She knew that he hated this and he wouldn't want to be seen this weak and vulnerable. She also wasn't going to mention that her arms felt like they were being yanked out of their sockets either.

By the time she came back upstairs with two mugs of tea Harry looked more at peace, but was still breathing heavily. "Thank you," he said again as she handed him his cup. "I hate this."

"I know," she said as she perched on the edge of the bed, taking a sip. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'd…"

"What?"

"Can you stay with me tonight? I mean, here?"

"If you want me to," she said, feeling her face flush with the unexpected request.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable," he said. "Forget I mentioned it."

"Harry, shut up," she said with a smile.


	7. Chapter 7

_I've decided that overall this is going to be a happy fic rather than an angsty one. I hope I've caught the emotion right here..._

* * *

><p>"Have you got anything I can sleep in?" Ruth asked calmly. "I didn't bring anything down here except me."<p>

"I don't see that as a problem," he said before he could stop himself. Ruth stared at him with raised eyebrows. "You can have one of my shirts if you want." Ruth chose not to tell him that she had always imagined the first time she wore Harry's shirt would be after a mad and intense night of making passionate love to each other. She thought that might not go over too well. She picked one of his shirts out of the wardrobe (a light blue one) and took it through to the bathroom. "Because I can't follow you, can't you at least let me watch," he called after her.

"Careful, or I'll sleep in the spare room," she said, a smile adorning her face happily, so he knew she was teasing him. He smiled as the door shut and awkwardly pulled his trousers down while she was in the bathroom. He managed to get relatively comfortable in bed when she reappeared, her bare legs looking irresistible. She was biting her lip, as if she looked nervous, awaiting his reaction. As if he could ever be disappointed by her, she was a vision. Slowly, almost painfully slowly she got into bed on the opposite side to him and pulled the duvet around her.

"Do you need any painkillers or anything?" she asked and he could hear the worry in her voice.

"I'm fine," he said. "Are you okay?"

"I've been through the emotional ringer today, but yes I am," she said. She leaned closer and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before her eyes fluttered closed. Never had he wished more fervently that he had the use of his entire body than at this moment. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss the life out of her, but with his disability he'd lost his confidence. So he settled for hearing her regular and even breathing in sleep. Which, he had to admit that six months ago, he'd have been thrilled to know this is where she would be.

* * *

><p>Harry woke up uncomfortable, in quite a bit of pain, and in total heaven. Ruth's body was wrapped around his in the most wonderful way. They were both laying on their sides, facing each other. Ruth's head was nestled into his chest as her arm was draped over his back. Her breasts were pushing against him too and his hand was on her bare waist, having clearly pushed her shirt up a few inches. He could see a tiny portion of pale, beautiful skin in this position but it simply wasn't enough. One of her legs that he'd been admiring the night before was between his. He could feel her warm skin between his thighs but then he lost all sensation lower down and he had never been more infuriated by it than he was at this moment in time. It really would be something intensely special to feel her body lined up completely against his, both intertwined together. But, he thought, this definitely wasn't half bad either.<p>

He spent about two full minutes appreciating this before she started to stir. He fought off the rush of disappointment as her figure moved but then changed his mind as her lips kissed the hollow of his throat and her hand went under his shirt, rising higher. He couldn't feel it but was pretty sure her foot was running over his calf too. He realised that she thought she was dreaming and wasn't fully conscious yet. He wondered what it meant that her subconscious dreamed of being in bed with him and felt elated. As much as he didn't want to, he pushed her away. When or if this happened, he wanted her to be fully aware of it, not in a half dreamlike state.

"Mmm?"

"Morning," he said quietly, wanting to rouse her.

"Oh," she said as awareness came back to her. Then she realised how tightly she was wound around him and backed away, suddenly embarrassed. She was throwing herself at him while they were sleeping? "God, I'm sorry," she said sincerely as a deep blush lit up her face.

"Don't be," he said, eyes burning at her. "Really, don't be." She smiled and kissed him again. A soft good morning kiss. "Can you do me a favour?" Harry asked.

"Sure."

"I don't want to disturb you but I really need my painkillers," he said. "I know you're comfortable but…"

"No don't be silly, I'll get them," she said already getting out of bed. "Where are they?"

Harry felt slightly tongue tied on seeing the sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window on her bare legs, the barely done up shirt, her tousled hair and sparkling eyes. He was looking at her so intensely that he'd forgotten she'd asked a question. "Sorry?" he said as he caught her eyes.

"Painkillers. Where are they?"

"Right, yes. They're in the kitchen cupboard, to the left of the sink. They're in a blue prescription bottle."

"I'll be right back," she said, leaving the bedroom and feeling very pleased that he was struck dumb by the sight of her. It definitely made her feel more confident in herself. Being the wrong side of forty with bigger thighs than she would like, a slightly noticeable stomach and small wrinkles near her eyes. But when he looked at her like he had done a few seconds before, she knew she had nothing to worry about. In the kitchen she decided to make up a breakfast tray. Despite the fact he couldn't walk, there was something romantic about a breakfast tray.

She went back upstairs with a couple of racks of toast, marmalade, jam and some coffee. "Thought you weren't coming back," he said as she opened the bedroom door. He'd moved so he was sitting up and she put the tray down.

"Where am I going to go dressed like this?" she asked indicating her rather dishevelled state as she perched on the edge of the bed.

"Mm," he said and she knew he wasn't talking about the coffee.

"I have to go back up to London today," she said. "I need more clothes and some of my things before coming back down."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I love having you here," he reassured her. "But I need taking care of, as much as I hate to admit it."

"I know that," she said. "If you'll let me, I want to do it."

"I don't deserve you," he said honestly. Even if he had been fully recovered he'd still think that.

"Do you want me to stay here on… a more permanent basis?" she asked, biting her lip. "I want to be here for you, but it's a bit…"

"Presumptuous?" Harry questioned and they were both brought back to the time he asked her out on the rooftop of Thames House. "Its very presumptuous. But there's nothing I would like more. As long as I'm not disrupting your life too much."

"After I thought you were dead… Not a lot mattered to me. So yes, I would like to come here."

"You go home then," he said after taking his painkillers.

"Will you be alright on your own?" she asked concerned.

"Yes," he said so quickly that she was slightly hurt. "I'd like a bath slash shower which is a very clumsy thing for me to do in this state. So if you went home for a few hours, I'd have a chance to get it done."

"Okay," she said, knowing he'd be too embarrassed to accept her help anyway. "I'll go home and be back here by this evening then. Is that okay?"

"Very okay," he said. He moved to kiss her but couldn't do it well and slipped down the bed. She bent over him and kissed his lips herself.

"I'll get dressed then leave okay?"

"Yes," he said. She finished her coffee and then went in the bathroom to get changed. Harry watched her go and felt a little more complete.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for all the reviews so far. More soonish.<em>


	8. Chapter 8

It was late in the evening when Ruth arrived back at Harry's. She had a suitcase and Fidget in his pet carrier. She knew it was being premature but she didn't want to leave the cat in Erin's care. If there was a national emergency he'd be forgotten. And she also didn't want to leave Harry which meant that Fidget had to come with her. The cat had been sleeping for most of the journey and was now meowing at her. As she opened the door she let the cat wander throughout the house and heard Harry in the lounge. "Hello, Fidge. Your mum home then?"

"Yeah I'm in the hall," she called, dragging her case into the lounge as Fidget jumped into Harry's lap, the wheelchair not bothering the feline in the slightest.

"Clearly you're more popular than I am," Ruth said, dropping the case.

"Fidge likes me," Harry said stroking the cats head as he purred happily, more so than she ever remembered the cat ever doing in her life.

"How can you get so comfortable with him?" Ruth asked sitting on the sofa. "He hates everyone."

"He likes me," Harry reiterated. "He missed you when you went to Cyprus. After a while he made do with me and we got on well. Because we both missed you so much." His eyes flicked up to hers and they were burning with a smouldering passion which made her go weak at the knees.

"Well he didn't forget you did he?" Ruth asked as Fidget was clearly comfortable on Harry's lap.

"Its like I don't exist," she said going into the kitchen to uncork a bottle of white wine. He followed her into the kitchen in his wheelchair, the cat still perched on his lap and she paused halfway through pouring herself a glass when she felt his eyes on her. "Sorry, do you not want me to…" she started, realising she'd just treated Harry's house like her own without realising it.

"No," he said quickly. "You just looked comfortable here, that's all," he said with a smile. "Its… nice."

"Do you want a glass?"

"No," he said immediately. "I'm limited to the alcohol I can have because of my medication. I save it for a very small whisky."

"Alright then," she said taking a sip from her glass. They made it through to the lounge and Ruth turned the TV on to watch some mindless program that didn't really require a lot of brain power.

"Can you help me get onto the sofa?" he asked. She nodded and manoeuvred him over and he looked very grateful but didn't say anything. She settled herself at the other end of the sofa, wine glass in hand. After a few awkward and silent moments Harry moved so he could take hold of her feet.

"What are you… No you don't have to do that," she said as he took her feet onto his lap and started pressing his thumbs into her flesh.

"It's the least I can do," he said sincerely as he kept massaging her feet. It felt wonderful so she didn't pull her feet back as his hands kept working on her. After a few minutes he hit a sore point on the arch of her foot and she let out a low moan. She kept making little noises as he touched sensitive parts of her feet and suddenly he felt very uncomfortable. Her touch and warm skin so close to him was giving him an erection. She drew her feet away from him quickly when she felt him and tucked them under her skirt.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, not wanting to embarrass her any more.

"Well, it answers that question anyway," she said, trying not to blush.

"Oh, so you've been thinking about it?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well… I just…wondered… and I… um…" she stammered. "Yeah, alright I've been thinking about it," she admitted her face flaming red. He laughed but it wasn't laughing at her, it was more that he was laughing at the situation. She smiled as she brushed her hair out of her face. The moment was broken by Fidget jumping on the gap between them on the sofa, meowing softly at them both.

"Do you want help getting upstairs?" she asked. Harry swallowed uncomfortably. Talking about things like this in the presence of Ruth wasn't exactly comfortable yet, but he nodded anyway. The journey upstairs was just as awkward as the night before. Ruth brought him a glass of whisky once he was sitting on the bed.

"Thanks," he said, taking a sip. She picked up Harry's shirt that she'd slept in the night before and walked through to the bathroom to get changed silently. Harry wondered curiously what the night would bring.

* * *

><p><em>More soon, I hope. I found this chapter difficult to write but I hope to get another chapter out by the end of the day.<em>


	9. Chapter 9

_Just a short one but I didn't want to leave it there._

* * *

><p>Ruth looked in the bathroom mirror, feeling very nervous. She hadn't meant to be so obvious downstairs but it had just happened that way. She slipped Harry's shirt over her bare skin, wondering how it would feel for his hands to wander underneath the fabric. She admitted to herself that she had wondered about sex with Harry, wondering whether he was able with his disability. Clearly that wasn't going to be a problem, she thought. But his self confidence might be. She knew that she had always wanted him and always would do. But she knew him very well, and she also knew that he would think she wouldn't want him when he couldn't walk.<p>

Buttoning up the shirt she made sure it was covering her decency but still had a couple of buttons undone to possibly tempt him without being too brazen. When she went back into the bedroom she smiled seeing Harry. He was in bed, eyes closed and he looked asleep. She knew how tired he was, dealing with life in this new situation. She got into bed and as soon as the mattress dipped under her weight Harry's eyes opened and she knew he hadn't really been asleep.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he said as a hand gently stroked her waist. She didn't have anything to say so she just smiled slightly and leaned in to kiss him briefly. The brief kiss turned into a longer one and as her hand touched his chest under the duvet, she realised he'd taken his shirt off. Her eyes connected with his and she lowered the duvet so she could see him. He stayed perfectly still as she did this. Her eyes were drawn to a straight line on the left side of his chest, and she knew that was from his recent surgery. Her hand hovered over the wound before she looked back at him.

"Can I?" Harry nodded and she gently traced her index finger over the injury, touching him very lightly. "Does it hurt?" she asked when her finger came to the end of the wound.

"Yes," he said not wanting to lie to her. "Not nearly as much as it did though," he reassured her. "It used to hurt just to wear a shirt over it, its not so bad anymore." Ruth nodded and before he could say a word she lowered herself and kissed the wound softly. He could feel her lips pressing against his sensitive skin and he breathed heavily. She drew back and started tracing his older scars softly. He watched her as she concentrated on his skin, waiting to see disgust or disappointment. But it wasn't there. It was just intense interest, seeing his bare chest for the first time. He had a knife scar on his collar bone and once she got up there she kissed it and then moved to kiss his neck and finally kissed his lips. He felt the smile against his mouth as he pushed his hands up and over her back, under her shirt. Clearly she liked how this was progressing.

As their lips were joined his hand rose high enough to feel that she wasn't wearing her bra either. He backed away from her a little as his fingers played over her back where the straps should be, eyes burning into each others.

"We should stop," he said even as her arms tightened around him.

"Oh absolutely," she said as she kissed the hollow of his throat, giving no sign she wanted to stop this.

"I don't think we should…"

"Harry," she said, pulling away so she could look into his eyes intensely rather than kissing him fervently which she was thoroughly enjoying. "I have wanted you for everyday for years," she said simply. "It doesn't change or lessen because of time or situations."

"I don't want to disappoint you," he said honestly. "Its been so long after all."

"I know how long its been," she said passionately. "Believe me, I know. And you never disappoint me either."

"Ruth… I can't really move properly," he said embarrassed that he had to admit that to her.

"I know that," she said plainly. "But I also know you didn't have a problem downstairs about an hour ago." Her raised eyebrows made him laugh. "Look, I've thought you were dead for far too long. Can't we live in the moment for a little bit? Just for tonight?"

"Okay then," he said with a smile. She closed the gap and as they kissed again and she felt a thrill of passion and excitement as Harry's hand snaked under her shirt and caressed her left breast, his thumb running over her hardening nipple. She smiled and then gasped as his touch wasn't stopping. It was wonderful.

* * *

><p><em>No idea where I'm going from here but more if people want it.<em>


	10. Chapter 10

_I never seem to have any idea where my fics are going, just taking them one step at a time. Also, couldn't resist posting this instalment tonight._

* * *

><p>Harry woke up with a slight pain in his chest from his stab wound. He grimaced from the pain but then realised he was also waking up with a naked Ruth, so it wasn't all bad. She was lying on her back but her face was turned towards him, the duvet barely covering enough that was decent. He couldn't believe that he was allowed to see her like this. It was incredible to him. Her hair was completely messed up, a testament to what they'd shared the night before. He wondered if she was disappointed. After all, he was willing to bet that neither of them had ever imagined their first time to be like this, with him at least partly immobilised. But even so, it had been incredible.<p>

At least for him, and he hoped she'd think so too. As soon as it was over she'd fallen instantly asleep, and he didn't know whether that was a good sign or a bad one. At the time he thought she had been enjoying herself but now that he was thinking about it in the cold light of day, he was doubting himself. He wasn't a complete idiot, and he knew how to make a woman enjoy sex, but this was Ruth, who mattered so much more than any other woman he'd been with. And having almost completely useless legs didn't make him any more confident either.

"Mm," Ruth said under her breath as she stirred slightly. He watched her face as she roused slowly, a sleepy smile forming on her face. She arched her back like a cat and stretched making the duvet fall away from her. Harry drew his eyes down over her beautiful figure for a moment before her eyes opened. She smiled at him and then covered her top half after letting him look for a few more seconds.

"Shame," he said.

"I don't think I've slept that well in years," she said happily. She turned over and kissed his lips softly before drawing away. "What is it?" she asked, seeing a shadow of worry behind his eyes.

"I hate to be one of those people, but I have to ask," he started slowly. "Did you…" he trailed off. "Did you enjoy it?"

Before answering she propped her head up on her elbow surveying him, with half a smile. "More than any other man I've ever been with," she said honestly.

"Don't lie," he said firmly.

"I'm not," she said in a low voice. "It meant more with you and felt incredible because I love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my entire life. That's why I can say with absolute certainty it was better than anyone previously I've ever slept with."

"You've never said that before," he said in a hushed voice.

"I've never slept with you before either," she said blankly.

"No the other bit," he whispered. "You said you love me."

"Oh," she replied with a smile. "Well, I do," she admitted. "I do love you."

"I love you," he said. It all seemed so simple now that it had been said. He lifted himself on his arms and rolled on top of her, kissing her passionately. She giggled slightly before their lips became busy with each other.

"Mm!" she said in complaint when their lips were joined. Harry was hurt by the fact she was pushing him away, but he backed off, because he wouldn't push her. Not ever. The look on her face was shock and he had no idea why she was looking at him like that. "Harry, your foot just moved," she said in a slow voice with her eyes wide.

"No it didn't," he said convinced.

"I'm telling you it did," she said. "Moved against my calf, I felt it."

"Wishful thinking," he said firmly. "Drop it," he asked, and the tone he used made it clear that arguing further was pointless.

"Okay," she said. She kissed him again and it lasted a long time. When he let her go the unexpected tension between them had dropped. "Shall I bring some breakfast up?" she asked.

"Well, I'd offer but…" he paused. "Breakfast in bed two days running, you're spoiling me."She smiled and stroked his chest briefly before getting out of bed, standing naked for a few seconds. "Changed my mind, **now** you're spoiling me," he said. She blushed and threw Harry's dressing gown around her as she hadn't unpacked anything other than Fidget.

"I'll feed the cat, but I'll be up soon. Do you need anything?"

"No," he said. "just going to close my eyes."

"You do that," she said leaning over him and kissing him once more. He smiled as she went and then felt a hand down his legs. No, she was wrong. They hadn't moved, he was sure of it. He couldn't start thinking that because it would give him completely false hope. And that he couldn't cope with.


	11. Chapter 11

_I would have had this up this morning but the site wouldn't lett me. Sorry its late. There's also an M rated piece to go along with the previous chapter in my fic the Morning After. Enjoy._

* * *

><p>It was a couple of days later and they were both sitting at the kitchen table having lunch. Ruth was distracted, twirling her fork around without actually eating anything. Harry reached across the table and took her hand, her eyes finally reaching his. "What's wrong?" he asked slowly. She dropped her fork to the plate with a clatter.<p>

"You're not going to like it," she said quietly.

"I don't care, anything's better than this unhappy silence from you."

"I think you should see a physical therapist, or someone," she said, biting her lip anxiously. "I know you won't want to, but as you're meant to be dead I think it would be good to get a professional opinion here. I… I've been thinking about it and I'd really like you to go."

He didn't answer straight away, giving the idea serious thought. "I don't want you to hope for a miracle," he said. "I will go if you want, but please don't get your hopes up."

"Do you think it's a good idea?"

"I honestly think it won't make any difference," he said. "But going to get checked out won't be a bad thing. And its not like I'm doing anything else around here all day."

"Thank you," she said, her eyes shining with sincerity. "I know you hate people seeing you like this, and you'd be doing it for me, but thank you anyway." He smiled tightly at her. He felt surprised when she suddenly got up and kissed his lips sensually. He wrapped his arms around her enjoying it before she broke the contact reluctantly. "Thank you," she repeated.

"We'll need him to sign the official secrets act you know," Harry said as Ruth picked up her fork, suddenly seeming hungry.

"Yes I know," Ruth said. "Considering officially you're buried a few miles outside of London. I have a few copies with me."

"Where'd you get them from?" he asked curiously.

"Pilfered them from the grid before I went to work for Towers," she said with a smile. "Just in case." Harry smiled at her, more relaxed this time, and carried on eating.

* * *

><p>"Well Mr Pearce, I don't seem to have any history passed on from your previous practice," the doctor said the next day.<p>

"Ah," Harry said. "Well, officially I'm dead," Harry said. "It's a long story, but I would appreciate you signing the official secrets act."

"Doctor patient confidentiality," he said, hiding his surprise with difficulty. "I wouldn't divulge anything anyway."

"Please," Harry said, proffering the form. "For my own peace of mind." The doctor took the form, scanned it, and then obligingly signed it before handing it back. "Thank you. Well, basically I nearly died about seven weeks ago. The oxygen was cut off to my brain and I ended up in this chair."

"Okay, what medication are you on?" Harry handed him the prescription and the doctor studied it. "Are you experiencing any movement at all?"

"Well, I can sort of shuffle around a few steps but it is exhausting and I can't feel it," Harry said. "I'm here because my partner said she felt my foot move in bed, and she wanted me to see a doctor."

"Judging from your reaction, you don't believe her," the doctor said correctly. Harry nodded his head once in agreement. "Okay, and now the awkward bit. Are you able to have sex?"

"Yes," Harry said bluntly, praying the conversation would change to something else. Clearly no one was hearing his prayers.

"Is it enjoyable?"

"Is this really necessary?" Harry asked.

"I don't like asking these questions, unfortunately its my job," the doctor said.

Harry sighed before continuing. He never talked about his private life like this. "Yes, but I'd say it feels… about seventy to eighty percent of what it was before I was injured." Something he wasn't letting Ruth know, and intended on keeping it that way. Harry stayed sitting as the doctor gently examined the muscles in Harry's legs. When he sat back up, looking at his notes, a frown came across his face.

"I am guessing at the hospital you were at, you were dismissed pretty quickly?" the doctor asked. "No one talked to you about any physical therapy or retraining your muscles?"

"That's about right," Harry said. "I needed to get out of there pretty quickly. Does it matter?"

"Your painkillers are too strong," the doctor said. "I think you should get off of them. It'll hurt, I'm not denying that, but they're numbing the good nerves as well as the pain. You need to get off them, if you want your legs to function again."

"So they will?" Harry asked flabbergasted.

"It won't be like it was, but I could see you using a walking stick and nothing more to get around at some point in the future."

"Really?"

"It will hurt when you get off the painkillers, but as far as I can tell you have a good shot."

"I don't care about the pain," he said. "I've had enough in my life, so I can deal with it."

"Its not a guarantee," the doctor advised. "You got a good shot. I'd recommend taking some normal paracetamol if it gets too much. I'd like you to come back in a couple of weeks."

"Of course," Harry said trying to wrap his mind around this. "Thank you." He left the doctors office to find Ruth with her nose in her Mary Shelley book. She looked up when he stopped his wheelchair by her.

"All okay?"

"Yeah, it went fine," he said. He didn't want to tell her anymore because he could live with his own hopes being shattered, but he couldn't cope with her being disappointed in his lack of progress.

* * *

><p><em>I'm making up medical details so I hope no one's offended by my lack of knowledge.<em>


	12. Chapter 12

_This is a small one but I wanted this scene to have its own chapter._

* * *

><p>It was three in the morning a few days later and Harry woke with shooting pains in his legs. Like the bones had been replaced with steel bars. He moaned once, he couldn't help it and Ruth stirred. "What's wrong?" she asked sleepily.<p>

"Just in pain," he said, knowing hiding it was useless. She wouldn't give up until she'd discovered what was bothering him anyway.

"Shall I get you your painkillers?"

"No," he replied, remembering what the doctor had said.

"I don't mind getting up," she said. She was already moving to get out of bed and Harry grabbed her arm, pulling her back down. She looked at him with confused eyes and he sighed. He turned on the bedside lamp and then returned to her, knowing a discussion was coming. "I don't mind getting them," she said. "Really, its no trouble."

"I'm not taking them anymore," he said.

"Oh Harry, that's really stupid!" she said. "Don't be such a stubborn man!"

"I'm not doing it because I'm stubborn," he said. "I didn't want to tell you."

"Tell me what?" she asked with a steely tone in her voice he didn't like one little bit.

"The doctor I saw advised me that I shouldn't take them anymore," Harry said.

"Why? You're in pain. That's completely ridiculous! I'm going to kill him."

"No its not," Harry said. "There is a chance… I'll walk again."

"Are you serious?" Ruth asked her eyes glittering.

"I didn't want to tell you."

"Why? Why are you lying to me?" she asked in a hurt voice.

He knew he had to answer it, but that didn't mean he liked it. "Its not because I want to lie to you, because I don't. I… I don't want to let you down." She gave every sign of interrupting but he put two fingers over her lips and continued. "Its my last ray of hope. If I do this, and it doesn't work I'll be stuck in that chair for the rest of my life. And instead of taking you out to dinner like I want to, you'll be my carer. Wheeling my round every hour of the day? I couldn't bear it. It would break my heart if after this little bit of hope… I stay a cripple. I want to walk again, I do. But more than that, I don't want to let you down. So I didn't tell you."

"You will not let me down," she said slowly, gripping his hand tightly. "You know that if there is a chance you have to take it."

"Yeah I do," he said. "I'm sorry for lying."

"Harry, you are the most stubborn man I have ever met. If there is even a small chance I have no doubt that eventually you will do it. Get some movement back."

"That's why I didn't tell you," he said. "You have such a blind faith in me that I don't deserve. I'll let you down." She was silent as she saw his eyes watering and knew that he didn't need recrimination or more words, he was punishing himself enough. He let the tears fall, feeling such a failure. She was silent but comforted him the best way she knew how. She wrapped her arms around him and felt relief when he tightened his grip around her. He kissed the top of her head and she knew he was crying into her hair. It took about half an hour for his chest to stop shaking with emotion and after five minutes she pried herself away from him and looked at his face. He was sleeping. She smiled and kissed the hollow of his throat, leaning over him to switch the light off.

"How could you think I'd ever be disappointed in you?" she asked quietly. She fell asleep with her hand on his waist, and her head resting against his chest.


	13. Chapter 13

Ruth was sitting at the kitchen table, her feet up on a chair as she continued to read Austen, Sense and Sensibility. The sunlight was streaming in the kitchen window and she was very comfortable. She flicked over the page and out of the corner of her eye she saw Harry in his wheelchair, hovering in the doorway. Putting her bookmark in she dropped the book and looked at him.

"You look beautiful," he said with a smile.

"Thank you," she replied, appreciating the compliment. "Can I do anything for you?"

"Watch."

"Watch what?" she asked blankly. Harry had a look of intense concentration on his face and she felt bewildered.

"There," he said breathing heavily with the effort. "My toes." Ruth looked down and saw them moving slightly. She smiled broadly as she kept watching, elated.

"Oh my God," she said happily. "That's brilliant!" He stopped moving and they caught each others eyes. She was wearing the biggest smile he'd ever seen on her face. She closed the gap and kissed him passionately. When they parted he felt light headed, breathless and incredibly pleased.

"I know its tiny…"

"Its not," she said. "Its not tiny at all," she said. "I'm so happy."

"I thought it didn't bother you if I never walk again?" he asked. The question was serious but his eyes were sparkling with humour.

"It doesn't, but I know you can't stand it. It hurts you more than me."

He smiled sadly. "Yeah it does," he agreed. "But I can move my toes."

"Yes you can," she replied grinning broadly. The look on his face made her close the gap between them and kiss him again.

* * *

><p>It was three days after that, something important happened. Ruth moaned as she was being woken up a couple of hours earlier than she'd have liked. It became clear very quickly that sleep was seemingly going to be over for the day. "Leave it out Fidget," she moaned with her eyes shut. Still she felt something against her leg and groaned again. Sitting up and opening her eyes she realised there wasn't a cat on the bed. She turned to her left and realised Harry was staring at her with a smile. Then she felt it again and realised his foot was running up and down her calf very lightly. "Now that is a great way to wake up. Do you like surprising me?"<p>

"Yes. Hi," he said, kissing her good morning. Now he seemed to have use of his feet, he was making the most of it, keeping touching her legs.

"You're eager."

"I've been missing this for the last few weeks," he said in between kisses. "Let me enjoy it." She smiled before her lips became too busy.

* * *

><p>Two weeks later Ruth was in the kitchen, making dinner and listening to the radio. Because she was concentrating she didn't hear it straight away. Harry was walking into the kitchen, a massive smile on his face. Keeping one hand on the furniture to support his weight he walked over to her and carefully wrapped his arms around her waist. She jumped so much and he laughed as she turned. "Bloody hell!" she said loudly. Then she looked at him. Really looked. "You're… walking?"<p>

"With difficulty but yes," he said with a smile.

"I mean that's bloody brilliant but God, you know how to give a girl a shock!" Harry smiled and kissed her, one hand on her waist to support him more than he would have liked. "Are you in pain?"

"Its stiff," he admitted. "But not really painful."

"Even better," she said. "I'm so happy for you."

"I'm pleased for both of us."

"Mm," she agreed, kissing him once more.

* * *

><p><em>I've worked out how to finish this so there is only one chapter left. Hope your all still liking it!<em>


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue...

* * *

><p>"You didn't have to take me out to dinner," Ruth said as she took a sip of her wine.<p>

"I wanted to," he said. "You deserve it." She smiled, feeling very happy and loved. "Plus you look absolutely beautiful."

"Thank you," she replied. She had felt slightly anxious about the knee length, low cut blue silk dress which was so unlike things she normally wore but Harry's eyes had been fixed on her throughout the drive to the restaurant, so she wasn't too worried. They were celebrating the fact that Harry was at pretty much full fitness. He had managed to walk pretty much all the time unless he was tired, which was better progress than anyone had anticipated. Neither Harry, Ruth, nor any doctors had thought he'd recover this well. It was eight months since she'd found him alive, and life had never been better.

"I want to thank you for looking after me when I couldn't," he said.

"You weren't that bad," she said, tactfully forgetting to mention the occasion he'd pushed himself too quickly and broken about a dozen ornaments in his frustration.

"There's something I want to talk to you about though," Harry said bringing her out of her thoughts about his recovery.

"That sounds both serious and ominous," she said finishing her glass of wine.

"Its not bad," he said. "But I've been giving it some serious thought over the past few weeks."

"Oh God," she said in a low voice. "You are worrying me, and after the year we've had, that's saying something."

"Its not bad," he repeated. He rummaged in his jacket pocket and suddenly something clicked in the back of her brain.

"Oh my God," she said in a completely different, hushed tone. His eyes were sparkling and he got out of his chair and got down on one knee next to her, holding a small velvet jewellery box as everyone in the restaurant fell silent, watching the scene unfold.

"Ruth, will you marry me?" He flicked open the box and there was both happiness and uncertainty in his eyes and she knew exactly why, after the last time at Ros's funeral. But she wasn't going to give the same answer this time.

"Yes," she said with a massive smile. His face mirrored hers as he took the ring out of the box and slid it onto her finger as the restaurant broke out into applause. The sapphire ring fit her perfectly and he straightened up so he could kiss her. "I love you," she whispered with a smile.

"Thought I better make more of an effort than last time," he said when he returned to his seat, looking at her beaming face.

"It wouldn't have mattered," she said as the deep blue sapphire sparkled on her finger, almost as brightly as her smile. "I'd have said yes anywhere." He looked at her, love shining in his eyes at that statement. "How long have you had the ring?"

"A few years," he said. "Been keeping it because I only imagined you wearing it. Even when you turned me down."

"I don't regret that," she said. "It wasn't right at the time."

"I know, I just didn't want to lose you."

"You never will now," she said, reaching across the table and gripping his hand. Nothing further was said, but the happiness in their eyes spoke volumes.

* * *

><p>The End.<p> 


End file.
